


untill you come back home

by bountifulsilences



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fix-It, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, because that's what WE deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18632656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bountifulsilences/pseuds/bountifulsilences
Summary: Bucky stumbled a step towards him. “You came back…” he breathed, shocked and hopeful.“I said I was coming back, didn’t I?” Steve said.or the one, where Steve leaves with the infinity stones and does what he was always going to do: he comes back home.





	untill you come back home

**Author's Note:**

> so look, i hate myself and this turned into *this* somehow- idk. but the beginning is angsty and the ending cute? so pull through, it does get better, i promise. give it some time. lmao, i say this but it really ain't that great but you know what? it's not good and that's okay! 
> 
> also, yes, this song was partially (heavily) influenced by an iconic and heart wrenching stevebucky song, but it was made: happy by i don't wanna live forever - zayn, tswift and it may be a song about sex but it is: the shit. that is all i have to say on that. that shits goooood. 
> 
> all mistakes are my own. i hope you enjoy this nonetheless.

Crimson words dripping with distress were inescapable for the first days after returning. Sun, beaming above the bleak world where floods compiled from teardrops streamed through the valleys of cities, and the moon, phasing among the misty clouds and retreating from the despair that wrecked the planet; nature eyed the transitional miracle with distrustful gazes.

A snap to steal them. A snap to return. And a final snap to restore the scales of virtue to their original form.

Bucky knew that the war was necessary, reluctantly accepted that conflict was required in survival. From the trenches in the war that he could barely remember, to the battlefield of an attempted assassination of the Avengers: where blood must fall, the heavens will close, and hell will rain its fire.

The Gods conceal their eyes from the damage, cloak their ears from the anguished cries of the dying, and feast upon their meals on mantles crafted by the very hands that now held weapons and killed mercilessly. To kill was a right bestowed upon humanity, he knew this. Understood that every human had the skill to perfectly execute demise.

His existed as his eyes, the pupil designed for a sniper rifle upon a branch watching someone’s six. Lately, his hands were nimble and fast, wielding knives as though his fingertips were razor blades that gorged on pain.

They were all monsters, demons, the unlawful. Their DNA encoded with malice that could be triggered- activated at whatever calamity and inconvenience the universe could deliver. He knew it well; Hydra manipulated his genetic information to slaughter ruthlessly and with not even an ounce of regret. Now, when he existed dubiously to himself, he learnt that their efforts remained.

No matter how far he fled from war, from the angel of death who tailed him as though he was not to be trusted, it always strolled straight back to him. Tugged the shackles embedded deep into his skin from Zola’s experiments and Hydra’s lessons and brought him back to where he belonged: the graveyard of the deceased.

For him to return to the earth where a waging war persisted for five years, he wasn’t surprised for the rifle to be at home in his hands. For his hair to be tied back, prepped for the exertion that would soon follow. Death prepared him to continue the war he should have died in, the moment his soul infiltrated his cadaver.

Men weren’t made for war. But he wasn’t a man; he was a bloodthirsty animal residing in a suit.

He carried trepidation like it was a weapon from the armoury and held Steve as he mourned for losses Bucky could never understand. Natalia was still a mystery to his fractured brain, and Stark a reminder of how he failed as not only a man but as a human. Grievance was not a new experience for him, but it strangled the arteries in his chest and made every breath harder than the next. Sorrow was reminder for him: nothing was set in stone, their fragility was their worst enemy, and there was always something ready to destroy him.

Nobody and nothing could torment Bucky more than his own self, but the world played tricks and devised games that were specially made to demolish his roots and send his mind into a spiral of misery and torture. It was selfish, so incredibly insensitive and egocentric, but he noticed that Steve was conspiring; planning a benefit which served him as an advantage- the world an afterthought- and hated it.

Lips taped together with a responsibility he owed to the man; he didn’t say anything. Refusing to let himself. But he watched as Steve made amends distractedly, stared off to the lake in a contemplative silence, and promised to return the stones to where they belonged before anyone else could.

Bucky knew that he yearned for Peggy, had been staring at his compass to see her face in every breathing second and would constantly recall their memories, no matter how few they were. The love that prospered there, rich and smooth and undying, Bucky realised what was coming far sooner than he wished he had.

Steve would return the stones, and then he would stay in the past with the love of his life, Bucky nothing but a distant memory.

A spear shot through his heart, but he hastily bandaged it with duct tape, made only to ruin and not heal. It was okay, Steve was allowed to and _would_ do that, he existed beyond wars and conflict. If his heart belonged to Carter and desired her more than the life he had so hesitantly created here, then Bucky would encourage him to leave. Urge him to do what’s right by him.

He wasn’t part of the equation, never had been and never would be. The love he harboured for Steve, an eternal, desperate and bountiful dose of devotion, it was nothing compared to Steve’s wants. It never had been anything, wasn’t permitted to develop beyond fondness he kept contained in his heart.

If Steve wished to leave, then leave he shall. Bucky would not stand as a foe and halt him in his journey. If the past was his happiness, where Bucky wasn’t an anxious and unstable friend, then there he would go. He had nothing to offer beyond an endless list of issues, Steve deserved better than that after everything he had lived through.

So, when the moment arrived, far too soon and not soon enough, Bucky watched him decline Sam’s offer, console Bruce, and then eventually address him. He tried to smile and drown the sadness which plagued his face when Steve wasn’t looking, but he knew it was unconvincing. Unconvincing to who? To himself. Everyone else adopted his stoicism as the latest feature on Bucky Barnes.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Steve said to him, smile free and boundless.

“How can I?” he said, voice low and croaky for disuse. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

With that Steve’s smile soared, an undiscovered element of beauty which pinched the tendrils of Bucky’s heart because he thought to himself, this is it. The fleeting moments they shared in the new century all puzzled together for this one last moment before Steve completed his destiny. It hurt. It devastated him.

When the arms pulled him in, warmth seeping through the suit and as strong as the mind that operated them, he rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, staring vacantly ahead, shattered by the decision and unable to voice as much. There was nothing to say, Steve would receive finally, what was stolen from him: a life with Peggy Carter.

Pulling back far too soon, he quirked his lip and admitted, “gonna miss you buddy,” because he knew what was coming and he meant every word that he said. The oxygen would be poison for him now, but he was used to not being able to breathe properly. Mask or air, he would never be able to.

Stepping onto the podium, Steve grabbed the hammer, a demonstration of worth and power, and nodded to Banner, looking as stunning as the angels that adorn the windows of cathedrals.

As Banner messed with the controls, last warnings relayed, Bucky swallowed.

Farewell Steve. Maybe in another life or another universe we could have achieved the greatness you were meant for. For now, breathe; you’ve finally got your life back.

“How long is he gone for?” Sam asked, Steve reduced to air in a second.

“However long he needs but for us, about five seconds,” Banner explained, pushing up his glasses. “Back in five, four, three, two, and one.”

He pushed the switch and yet, nothing. The space remained void of Steve and the air static. Bucky walked away, refusing to look at the podium and knowing that he would never return. He stared at the lake, the way the sun caressed the still water and painting sparkles on its surfaces. Stars during the day.

Worried, Sam immediately attacked Bruce with a ferocity that could only be identified as desperation. Since their return, they had both been clinging onto Steve far more than they should have, but they had needed him. Felt at a loss despite having only gained. The mechanics of life were confusing, he wasn’t sure he could ever understand them.

“He’s not coming back, I don’t know- he should be here. Everything’s working perfectly fine,” Banner explained in a stammer, confusion and dread hot in his voice.

“Well it clearly isn’t fine because he’s not here, do something about the-”

“Sam,” he interrupted, voice gentle and eyes dazed on the lake. Distantly, he heard Banner restart the machine. “He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

“W-what do you mean he’s not- oh. Okay, uh, what do you mean he’s not coming back?” Sam replied, startled.

Bucky sighed and tore his gaze from the lake. Pivoting to face the man, he opened his mouth and said, “I meant that he’s-” the words got stuck in his throat because he was wrong. He was so very wrong. Incorrect. So very mistaken.

Steve was there, briefcase and hammer in tow, and eyebrow raised in expectation. His lip was quirked, though Bucky could see it was mostly a facade, Steve never was good at deceiving him, and he was there. Flesh and blood. He was back.

“You meant what, Buck?” Steve asked, anticipating a response that he would never receive.

Bucky stumbled a step towards him. “You came back…” he breathed, shocked and hopeful.

“I said I was coming back, didn’t I?” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, “but. But you.”

“But I what?”

“But you miss her,” he said, not a shout but accusing and suddenly full of anger. “You had the chance to stay, why didn’t you?”

“Okay and now I’m just going to…” Banner muttered in the background.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming with,” Sam said, following the retreating footsteps leaving behind Steve and Bucky.

 

Steve didn’t look surprised, more resigned than distraught and Bucky didn’t get it. Peace was but a dream, unattainable and tempting. Out of their grasp and millenniums away from Bucky. Why would Steve return?

He put down the weapon and briefcase, crouching for their tender descent, and then walked to Bucky, face clear and eyes kind. Incredulous, Bucky let him, defenceless even when Steve stopped a breath away and question, “may I?”

Slowly, Bucky nodded. He was starved for this, for some sort of touch that was light and loving, nothing like the blows from fists that needed him to die. This was nothing as such. Steve held his face, leaning in and searching his eyes as though they held the answers of the universe in them, and smiled fondly.

“I love her, you know I do. But we both moved on years ago, and I don’t want Peggy as my wife anymore, I want her as my best friend. I don’t want to stay somewhere I don’t want or need to be, I’m perfectly happy here, Buck. I got you, I got Sam, and I got friends who love me as much as I love them. There is nothing for me in the past, not even you to make it bearable,” Steve replied, gently stroking Bucky’s face as he whispered the words.

Breath caught in his throat; Bucky gulped. But. But he- “You deserve to. You deserve to be happy; you paid your dues. This is your time, Steve. Stop messing around and go, you don’t need any of us. We’ll be fine- no, we _are_ fine. We’re good. Live your life, you- you piss bucket.”

“Holy shit, ‘piss bucket’? Really? It’s been years since I’ve heard that, Jesus,” Steve laughed, head falling to his chest as his eyes closed momentarily, eyelashes glinting under the sunlight.

“Fuck off,” Bucky said, “I’m still mad at you.”

“Why? Because I want to stay here with you? You’ve been gone for years, we have some catching up to do, don’t you think?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow and Bucky punched him stomach lightly, wounds from the battle still so fresh.

“Don’t waste your life on me Steve, please. I want you to be happy, don’t do this to yourself,” Bucky rambled, almost urgent.

Steve sighed, and nodded. Okay. Okay. Maybe he would-

“You were gone for five years. Five years of me uttering your name every night, because that’s what I did Buck. Spoke to stars since I figured you were one of them and held onto Nat’s words. She promised me that she’d find you, and she did. She- she got you all back to us, and we lost her but it’s okay. Because she’s watching over us all right now and know what she’s saying?”

Bucky shook his head, dumbfounded.

“She’s saying, ‘get your head out of your ass Rogers and tell him you love him, times like these don’t come twice’ so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Because any second I spend with you is never wasted. I am happy- okay, fine, not exactly but I will be- and I’ve got you and Sam back. It’s not easy, but you make it good, make it bearable,” Steve finished, simple but so weighted.

It felt surreal almost, that Steve could love a monster like him and want to. Not loathe the feelings and rather encourage them. Unreal, it was. But he was selfish, hearing that Steve may have felt the same ignited his longing into a blaze that he couldn’t reign, an entity of its own.

He nodded, slowly. “If that’s the case, you ever gonna say the words then? Cause I’m not getting any younger and neither are you. We’ve got a lot of time to catch up on.”

Steve’s grin was blinding, the force of a star powering the smile and illuminating his face with happiness Bucky had not seen in years. Or at all, as far as his memory went. All in all, it shouldn’t have been surprising when Steve pulled him into a tight and all-encompassing hug.

“I love you,” he whispered simply and as though it was all he could do, a truth engraved into his heart and beat with the same ferocity as his soul. “I love you more than I thought I could ever love a person Bucky Barnes, and I’m not going anywhere, I’m always coming back to you. Always.”

Inexplicably, Bucky's eyes shimmered and he completed the embrace, wrapping his arms under Steve’s armpit and pressing their chests together as hard as he could, face nestled against his shoulder. “You shouldn’t,” he said in a final, weak protest.

“I’ve done plenty of wrongs in my life, but this is one of my most favourite rights. To love you is a gift, it always had been.”

Bucky nodded, digging his fingertip into Steve’s shoulder and sighing, blissful and no longer in drowning anxiety. “I love you too,” he confessed, nothing comparable to what he felt. “Piss bucket.”

Steve laughed, the vibrations rumbling in his chest and pulsing into Bucky’s. “You know, you’re the real piss bucket, right? Bucky, Buck, bucket. It’s as though you were made for it.”

“You’re so lucky you said all of this just now, because I wouldn’t hesitate to make you into one if you hadn’t,” Bucky told him, “now what are we waiting for? You finally gonna kiss me or not, Rogers?”

Steve pulled back and smiled, adoring and loving, as though that was all he could muster. All he had to give.

“With pleasure.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr:  bountifulsilences   
> twitter:  AwestruckBuck 
> 
> and just because: "piss bucket" is acc something that a friend (  hope  ) and i use as an inside joke. i haD to do it.


End file.
